Random Rough Draft
by tomoya-542002
Summary: I was working on a Civil War fic, but I've completly lost the ability to write. I'm too proud of this rough draft to let the story die, so I'll just post this drabble. It's just a rough draft, and it even includes notes to myself.


(Set after the Battle at Sayler's Creek. Describe the event as Alfred goes to negotiate with Scarlett again. Most of the Confederate generals have surrendered to the Union army, Alfred comes to her plantation (describe it, the workers in the fields and his pity towards them and outrage at their condition, remember to add Alfred going to adjust his glasses and forgetting he lost them after fleeing from Fort Sumter). Alfred is surprised to find the house unguarded, he walks up the stairs and sees Scarlett sitting in front of the window (describe the room, make sure to include details of curtain, window, and chair, have there be a book shelf, endtable with a worn bible on it, and bed). Describe her, a vision of beauty in her red dress, fanning herself with the lacy red and black fan. Her wavy blond hair is held back with a red bow, she has on black gloves.)

"I'm surprised your soldiers left you unguarded," Alfred remarked as he leaned against the door frame. "A pretty lady like yourself alone in this big old house, it's just asking for trouble."

Scarlett smirked as she turned to face her other half. "I'm quite capable of protecting myself, Alfred," she snapped her fan shut and smiled prettily, "You of all people should know that."

Alfred winced. He all too aware how capable Scarlett was. The fiery blond had a habit of donning men's clothes and joining the battlefield. Especially if the fight was near her beloved home in Virginia. Alfred had first encountered Scarlett during the battle at Bethel Church nearly four years ago. Though his Union troops had outnumbered the Confederates by over 2,000 soldiers, Scarlett and her men managed to defend the church and score a victory for the Confederacy. (not sure if this bit will follow through into final story, since the fight will be an earlier chapter...it sounds good now, but will it fit in later?) Alfred suspected that if Scarlett hadn't been shot in the Battle of the Wilderness she would be in uniform now, fighting alongside her loyal men. The only reason the nation had left her fellow Confederates was because General Lee had pleaded with the injured nation to stay behind at her plantation where it was safe.

Alfred let out a heavy sigh at the thought of General Lee. The Confederate General was a brave and noble man; if he hadn't been so damn in love with the South he would have been a wonderful addition to the Union army. "Your General," Alfred began as he pushed off the door frame and approached the sitting nation. He stood behind her chair, folding his hands across its back as he leaned down to whisper in her ear, "Lee was defeated at Petersburg."

Scarlett flinched, eyes falling closed as her gloved hands tightly gripped her fan. She began to worry her lower lip before hesitantly asking, "...Is he dead?"

Alfred let his eyes trail down Scarlett's elegant neck as he considered his answer. His gaze paused upon the other nation's necklace and the pair of familiar glasses that hung from it, resting upon her bosom. Without thinking the older nation reached forward and picked up the frames. Scarlett let out an outraged gasp, blue eyes flying open as she grabbed Alfred's wrist and tried to pull his hand away. "Release me!" she ordered.

"Where did you get these?" Alfred demanded, ignoring the young woman's struggles as he gave the glasses a sharp tug. The chain the frames were on scrapped across Scarlett's neck, pulling a few blond hairs out as the cold metal slid across her nape. Scarlett bit back a cry of pain. "I said let go!" she shouted, digging her sharp nails into Alfred's wrist. Alfred yelped and released the younger blond. Scarlett reached into her garter (debating whether or not she needs to adjust the dress to do this), pulling out a revolver that had been concealed in the fabric. She stood and turned to face Alfred, revolver aimed at older nation's head. "How _dare_ you touch me so inappropriately," Scarlett hissed.

Alfred rubbed his injured wrist. A smirked played at the corner of his lips as he glared at the woman standing before him. "Don't flatter yourself Scarlett," he assured, "I was reaching for the glasses. They are mine, after all."

"_Were_ yours," Scarlett corrected, "My soldiers gave these to me after the attack on Fort Sumter. Apparently they feel President Jones would approve of our plight for independence."

"Mr. Jones can hardly be called a president, the Republic of Texas lasted less than a decade," Alfred scoffed. "I doubt your pathetic Confederacy will last even--"

"The Confederate States of America shall last as long as I have soldier's willing to fight for our rights!" Scarlett interrupted, brandishing her gun.

At this Alfred did smirk. The blond man walked around the chair to stand before the bookshelf, keeping an eye on the gun Scarlett held in her hand. The younger nation backed up and shifted her aim from Alfred's head to his heart, but otherwise allowed the movement. "I'm sorry to inform you that your nation won't be here for much longer then," Alfred sighed, as he selected one of the newer looking books from the shelf, "Most of your generals surrendered earlier today."

Scarlett glared as Alfred began to leaf through her belongings but refrained from yelling at him. "Who left? Which of my men abandoned me?" she inquired instead.

Alfred shook his head and put the book he was holding back. "As I said, almost all of them have surrendered. Ewell, Kershaw, Simms, Corse," he listed, counting them off on his fingers, "Dubose, Barton, (should I delete some names? Does he really need to list so many? But on the other had, Scarlett should know specifically who left) one of the only generals who didn't quit was Lee." Alfred chose a different book, "The older one of course, young Curtis was among those who surrendered at Sayler's."

Scarlett's revolver dropped a fraction at this new information. "You mean...Robert's alive?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. She knew she should be more concerned about her soldiers deserting her, but the news that Robert was still alive reassured her. (By this point I'd have established a sort-of relationship between the two. General Lee is a loyal man and loves his home in Virginia, since I'm having Scarlett be from Virginia and is the embodiment of the South, Lee feels like he must protect her. Hints of romantic feelings, but since Lee is married unsure how far I'll let it go)

Alfred seemed to sense this as he shook his head. "Don't get your hopes up, my dear," he tsked, "Last I heard General Grant had him and a few of your other troops pinned down High Bridge."

"He's been under siege before," Scarlett assured herself, bitting her lip, "He'll be fine..."

"Not like this. Even if his soldiers manage to get past mine, it won't matter; his supplies are limited." Alfred finally looked up from the book, meeting Scarlett's gaze. "Your precious general will be dead in a week."

At this the younger nation lowered her weapon. "What will it take for you to let Robert go?" she whispered, a slight plea in her tone.

As he looked into Scarlett's eyes, Alfred felt a pang of sympathy for the young woman. She really was beautiful; though she was begging for her general's life her eyes still held the stubborn defiance that epitomized her. Scarlett reminded him of himself when he was young, fighting Great Britain for his independence. It was at these times that Alfred truly wished that the other nation could be allowed to exist. Sadly, Alfred had his orders; he was to preserve the Union at all costs and no amount of pity he felt for Scarlett would stop him. Alfred sighed heavily, shaking his head. "I almost forgot how young you are," he remarked with a small smile.

"I'm the same age as you," Scarlett snapped.

Alfred chuckled. "In body maybe... No, I meant in spirit. You've only been a nation for the few years we've been fighting."

-o-O-o-O-o-

This is all I have so far, as I said in the summary this is only a rough draft. It sucks, I have the inspiration and the story is all thought out (I mean, it's in the history books, all I have to do is insert these characters and twist some facts to suit fanfiction needs), but everything I write sounds like poop to me. Again, I'm just too proud of this idea to let it just die on mean. I love Scarlett, and the ending is so beautiful in my mind! I think I'll just write scenes as they pop into my head, eventually I'll have the whole story written...


End file.
